


In the end, we just want to live our lives

by LiliGrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom scene rewrite, Gen, Half-Blood Prince AU, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliGrey/pseuds/LiliGrey
Summary: What if, Harry didn’t use Sectumsempra in that bathroom?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just….really needed to write this.

Anger built up into white hot rage as Harry followed the Slytherin through the winding corridors. He felt his body shake with the intensity of the emotions roiling in his guts, clambering to climb out of him in static bursts of wild magic.

 

After seeing the Slytherin’s face when he spoke to Katie in the Great Hall, he knew without doubt that it was Malfoy who placed the curse that had almost cost Katie her life. He always knew Malfoy was a complete bastard, but somehow, he just never believed Malfoy to be capable of murdering a fellow student.

 

How naive of him.

 

For someone who would willingly follow Voldemort, who took pride in following a madman and a murderer, of course Malfoy would share the same hateful values and do the Dark Lord’s biddings like the good Malfoy heir he is.

 

He had known Malfoy was up to no good before the school year even started and he knew it wasn’t just an obsession, as Ron called it. His instincts told him the Slytherin was planning something evil and he will do everything in his power to stop him. And also stop Voldemort from taking over the wizarding world again, even if it might cost him his life.

 

_If only they would let him know what’s truly going on, rather than this patronizing attempt at shielding him from the war that was centered on him since the day he was born._ He thought bitterly.

 

Watching the Slytherin slip into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, he slid his wand out of his pocket and gripped it tight in his fist. Today, he will confront Malfoy and find out what evil he has been up to one way or another.

 

He will make Malfoy pay for everything he did.

 

However, when he reached the bathroom doorway, what he saw, and heard, made him freeze in place, his wand lying forgotten in his lax fingers.

 

His jaws dropped open and he could do nothing but stare in shock.

 

Malfoy was crying.

 

For a moment, his anger flared up in a sharp spike as he thought, _How dare he?_

 

How dare he cry when so many have suffered because of him, because of people like him and the hate and bias he represented? How dare he when he was the one that always got what he wanted, abused all those muggle-borns until they are in tears, said hurtful things and reveled in others’ anguish?

 

But somehow, he found that he just couldn’t bring it within him to draw his wand.

 

Because he recongnised that heart ripping bawl that should not have come from someone their age, whose only worry should have been school work and exams.

 

He was intimately familiar with it.

 

It was a cry of pain and confusion and helplessness. It was the sound he grew up stifled at nights when he couldn’t help but think about what it would have been like to live with a normal family, to be loved every day by parents who would give up their lives for you. It was the same pain he endured as he watched Sirius fall through that veil, the only person that had come close to family, gone forever from his life.

 

Coming from Malfoy, it just felt so _wrong_.

 

Malfoy should be the haughty, spoiled Slytherin prince that believed the world revolved around him and his family’s prestige. Malfoy should be his nemesis, an enemy that embodied everything he hated and resented, an enemy he can direct all his anger and angst to, but now, it felt like someone had taken all that away from him and he was left with an empty space, a punching bag that was no longer there.

 

That emptiness made him feel lost.

 

He saw the moment Malfoy look up and realised he wasn't alone. Their eyes met in the mirror.

 

Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock and he fumbled for his wand.

 

“Crucio!” Malfoy yelled, but Harry could tell his heart was not in it. He knew, from bitter experience, it would not be the soul shattering agony even if it hit him.

 

He could have fired back a number of curses or hexes, but instead, he just ducked and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

 

The hawthorn wand flew up high in the air.

 

He caught it in one hand.

 

Neither of them moved as they stood facing each other, Harry’s wand still trained on Malfoy. He could see the other boy’s chest heave from his earlier breakdown, the tear tracks on his face still vivid in the light through the bathroom windows.

 

Malfoy’s hands clenched into fists by his side.

 

“What are you waiting for then, Potter?” Malfoy spat out and spread his arms mockingly, his voice becoming a bit hysterical. “Aren’t you here to curse me?”

 

Harry just clutched his wand tighter but didn’t make a move.

 

“Or are you scared, Potter? Scared that the Dark Lord is going to finish you off like your pitiful parents and that good-for-nothing scoundrel that you called godfather?”

 

At that, Harry snarled as his vision went red. The next thing he knew, he had slammed the infuriating Slytherin into the wall, but Malfoy wasn’t finished.

 

“Oh, so the great Harry Potter decided to fight like a muggle, huh? What, are you going to punch me in the face like that mudblood girlfriend of yours?” Malfoy taunted, as if he had a death wish, his eyes gleaming maniacally. “Or, what, strangle me?”

 

Harry is tempted to do just that. His chest heaved as his grip on the Slytherin’s robes tightened, hands curling into fists.

 

Then Harry stared into the hateful, sneering face of the boy who had tormented him for years. He stared into those pale grey eyes, and really looked, and he saw someone who was hurting just as much as he was, just as lost and confused about the state their world had fallen into, under the power of a madman.

 

“No. I won’t.” His tight hold on the Slytherin slackened and he took a step back, shaking his head.

 

“Fuck you, Potter.” There was no bite to it as the words came out as a mere whisper. Malfoy’s body was visibly trembling as he slumped against the wall in what was undeniably defeat.

 

Harry just felt incredibly tired as he looked at the pitiful boy before him, yes pitiful, and felt the last shreds of his anger slowly drain away.

 

He sighed.

 

“You know what, I could really use some firewhiskey right now.”

 

//////////

 

Which was why, later, impossibly, they found themselves standing side-by-side on the astronomy tower, staring out into the distance, and sharing a flask of firewhiskey between them.

 

“He’s going to torture my father and make me watch, you know. Or the other way round. I don’t even know which is worse at this point.” Malfoy took a slow sip from the flask and then handed it to Harry, who toyed with the metal container, his lips curling up at the irony of it all as he too, took a tentative sip, welcoming the burn of the fiery liquid.

 

“I would say that’s what you deserve for welcoming a psychopath into your manor, but then again, no one deserves Voldemort.”

 

Malfoy shot him a dirty look. “You are a right bastard, Potter.”

 

“Like you aren’t, Malfoy.” Harry retorted.

 

Somehow, the insults felt like a truce as they both stared into the distance, passing the flask between them as they shared the drink in a strangely peaceful silence.

 

A sudden impulse overcame Harry and he blurted out. “Leave Voldemort, and fight for the right side.”

 

“What, and join Dumbledore?” Malfoy gave him a incredulous look as if he’d finally gone round the bend. “You are really so naive as to believe in all his grandiose words?”

 

Harry just shrugged. “You believed Voldemort would make the wizarding world great again.”

 

“Touché.” Malfoy let out a wet chuckle.

 

“So what’s the right side got to offer then?” Malfoy said, somewhat flippantly, as he took a long swig.

 

“You mean apart from a world not ruled by a cold blooded murderer, who tortures others for fun, likes watching his pet snake eat other people, sprouting lies and spreading pure-blood shit when he doesn’t give a fuck about it besides the power he gets?” Harry replied in a dry tone. “Not much I guess, just a chance for all of us to live our lives, without being hated and discriminated for who we are, that’s all.”

 

Malfoy made a face as if he wanted to say something sarcastic to that, but he didn’t.

 

“You know they’ll never accept me.”

 

“If you keep on insulting everyone, no.” Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh, so if little traitor Draco Malfoy played good and kept his mouth shut, we’ll all be great friends and forget all about him supporting a murderer and tried to let Death Eaters into the school. Great.” Malfoy sneered.

 

“Well, of course not.” Harry shot back, getting exasperated now. “You know what, I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation with you in the first place. It’s completely pointless. If you really want to be treated like a decent person, just learn to respect others and mean it!”

 

Harry downed the last mouthful in the flask, made a face, then turned and made his way down the stairs, leaving Malfoy alone with his thoughts on the windswept tower.

 

Draco stared out at the vast Hogwarts grounds before him, pondering Potter’s words, a vague plan slowly forming in his mind.

 

A cold gust of wind blew across the tower, making him shiver and he wrapped his cloak around him tighter. Then he patted his pockets and cursed.

 

“Potter! Give me back my wand!”

 

 

//////////

 

 

Twenty years later.

 

“Scorpius Malfoy!” The austere witch with the pointy hat called out.

 

A young boy with pointy chin and white-blond hair shuffled forward and sat on the stool nervously as the large, dirty hat was dropped over his head.

 

Long moments of silence passed as the other first years stared on with held breath.

 

Finally, the seam at the top opened.

 

“Gryffindor!”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think Draco wouldn't just turn good without a good push, so...here is the push :)


End file.
